


The Pursuit of Employmentness

by SeeMaree



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Interns & Internships, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:23:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeMaree/pseuds/SeeMaree
Summary: Bellamy Blake is the most obnoxious sort of loudmouth, and it's just bad luck that he's assigned to Clarke's team. Bad luck or sabotage.Whatever is going on she's not going to let anything stop her from turning this internship into the job of her dreams.





	The Pursuit of Employmentness

Clarke learned two things in orientation.

This is the place that can jumpstart her dreams, and Bellamy Blake is an asshole. 

The offices of Artist Resource Consulting (ARC) are bland and beige, the only patches of color coming from the cubicles that are more often than not stuffed with art supplies and fabric swatches and art pinned up on the beige padded half walls. But Clarke is sure it’s the place that can make all her creative dreams come true. If only she can make it out of this internship with a job.

She immediately scopes out the Blake guy as an obstacle. Always first with opinions, whether anyone else wants to hear them or not, always the loudest and the most self important with his ideas, his corrections, him, him, him. She wonders if he can even hear anyone else talking, what with his own exalted self opinion crowding out just about everything else.

And that’s only the first day’s impressions.

The internship is unpaid, and it bothers her, the inequity of that. She has money behind her. Her mother pays her rent, and she’s got a quarterly stipend from her trust fund. She can afford to work for free. But what about everyone else? How are they managing to live for three months with no pay? She resolves to offer a couch to crash on to anyone who needs it, so they can stay on. There’s not much else she can do, so she puts it out of her mind and focuses on the job.

Besides the biased hiring practices it’s an amazing company, and she’s desperate to work here for real. But there’s 30 interns and only three open positions. The competition is fierce.

They’re confined to one big room. Open plan hasn’t got anything on this space. There is literally no privacy. Just wide open desks and scattered couches. You don’t even get to stake out a regular workspace. Instead it’s all floating. Her 'desk' is a laptop and a bag to keep it and any other supplies in. Which can't leave the office. Of course. When you're not even paying people you should be worried about them stealing from you.

The noise is horrendous. 

Of course one voice rises above the rest. "What I think..."

“Shut up Blake,” Clarke mutters, rubbing her temples. "No one cares what you think."

A crackle and shriek announce the entrance of their team leader. Ugh. Cage Wallace, with his pretentious overgroomed beard and smarmy smiles. The son of one of the VPs. Which would be all whatever, if he wasn’t so transparently angry about being stuck babysitting a bunch of interns.

Plus he uses a speaker system, complete with a wireless head set like he thinks he’s Steve Jobs releasing a new iphone or something. Yes the big noisy room is difficult to be heard in, but jeez a headset? 

The speakers shriek again and Clarke resisted the urge to plug her ears. Cage would probably mark it down against her. 

“Okay people! Who’s excited for their first project!”

Oh yeah, and somehow donning that stupid headset makes him assume the persona of a spinning instructor. Perhaps the headset is haunted by the spirit of its last owner. Who Cage vampirically drained the life from, just to steal her gear. Yeah. He’s a hipster vampire. Clarke smirks a little at the idea.

“I said who’s excited?”

A ragged half cheer ripples around the room and Cage shakes his head, annoyed by the lack of enthusiasm.

It’s more exhaustion. For the last two weeks he’s been pelting them with all the crappiest of crap work, microscopic changes and tweaks that require hours of work, keeping everyone here late at night, every night.

But now it’s finally time for them to get their own project to work on, instead of assisting they were going to get to handle something beginning to end.

More or less. Clarke was certain they weren’t going to unleash them on real clients. It’s more than likely a fake project. Or maybe something akin to crowdsourcing, to be refined by designers who are actually employed by the company.

But she doesn’t care. It’s got to be more interesting than what they’ve done so far.

Cage is busy on his laptop putting a chart up on the big overhead screen.

It takes a moment for Clarke to figure out what it means.

She sees her name listed near the top, right above Bellamy Blake, and for a second she thinks it’s some sort of ranking, and feels viciously pleased to be ahead of the asshole. But just for a second. Because it’s not a ranking. It’s team assignments.

She doesn’t know whats worse. That there’s (L) after her name, or that below Bellamy Blake there was another name. John Murphy.

Is there some conspiracy against her? 

Cage is rattling on about how the teams are randomly assigned, and there’s no switching.  
No one randomly gets assigned the two biggest assholes in the entire program. And Clarke is supposed to lead them? It’s going to be worse than herding cats. More like racoons. Clarke is going to spend the next three weeks herding racoons.

She wants to lay her head on the desk and cry. Only the innocent smile Cage is sporting stops her. 

He’s actually sabotaging her. The bastard. Of course he is. He hit on her the first day of the program, and she turned him down. And now she’s as good as axed. For a second she considers talking to HR, but she’s more than certain men like that know how to cover their tracks. Because how could a random assignment be punishment for anything?

She sees Mr. Lincoln watching her with his calm, dark eyes. He gives her a smile and a nod, almost a smirk. Which is what? He’s from upstairs, an assistant to a vice president or something. He shows up randomly and looks over their shoulders and asks about what they’re doing. He’s against her too? She thought he liked her! He always seemed approving of her work.

She gets up and leaves the room. She’s headed for the bathroom for a little silence and solitude to contemplate the end of all her hopes and dreams, but a chattering group of three other interns sweep ahead of her, obviously headed for the same destination.

So instead she stops and leans against the wall. Clarke’s just resting there, mentally rearranging the plans she had for an actual career in graphic design when she feels someone lean next to her.

“So, Princess, you brainstorming ideas?”

She wants to yell at him to go away and let her wallow for just a minute. Instead she tilts her head forward and opens her eyes. Murphy is hovering behind him, but, besides the three of them, the hallway is empty. 

They came looking for her. Which surprises her. She’d have thought that Blake would’ve jumped to take her place. Instead here they are. Waiting for direction. She’s Clarke Griffin. She’s born to lead. She straightens her shoulders.

“Okay, boys. What do you have to offer?”

***

And, it’s not actually terrible. They end up perched on the stylishly uncomfortable couches at the far end of the room because all the tables are already claimed, but the guys don’t complain. In fact Murphy drapes himself across the end on his stomach. Everyone has ideas, the three of them discuss, and come up with a plan. Of course this is the easy bit.

Although some voices are already raised in the groups around them. So maybe not that easy.  
They get to work on their assigned tasks and Clarke transfers her notes and sketches to a schedule, then gets busy fleshing out her concept layout, so she’ll have something to show Mr Lincoln when he comes around to check on her. Because screw everyone trying to ruin this for her. She’s going to make it work somehow.

“Clarke,” Bellamy calls over, “I just sent you something. Tell me what you think.”

She opens the file, and it’s just NO.

He’s got skills, she has to give him that. To produce this in less than an hour, but it’s all wrong. 

It’s meant to be soft and flowing, and he’s got all these sharp angles.

She peeks at him from the corner of her eye, but he catches her movement, and comes to stand behind her.

“So, what do you think?”

“You’re very fast,” she hedges.

He sighs heavily. “Don’t mess around with me. Do you like it? Is it going to work?”

She bites her lip anxiously.

“No. It’s good, but not right for this. Do it again, and this time make it soft. See here?” She uses her cursor to point out the areas that feel wrong.

“Okay,” is all he says, turning back to his own laptop. 

She watches him for a second, sure he’s got to be steamed. He’s all mouth and opinions. No way he’d be okay with his work being criticized like that.

But he just gives her a nod and and then winces when a particularly shrill voice from the desk across from them hits his ears.Within two hours he’s got the new, improved artwork in her email.

“What about this?”

Clarke grins in astonished relief. “Yes! Excellent!”

He grins back, and she can suddenly see what has some of the other interns fluttering over him. He’s cute when he’s not being a know-it-all asshole. Murphy mumbles something and rolls his eyes, but when he sends her his progress at the end of the day he’s done good work. He’s not as inspired as Bellamy, but he’s fast and determined.

That night she’s dozing through the late news when Raven calls.

“So girl, hows this fancy intern gig going? We haven’t heard from you for ages.”

“It’s good.” Clarke tries to stifle a yawn. “Just a lot, you know?”

“That sleaze try anything else on you?”

Clarke had to vent about the skin crawlingness of being hit on by Cage Wallace, her direct supervisor, to someone.

“Yeah, well, he’s not hitting on me any more. Now he’s more trying to sabotage me. He put me in a team with a couple of assholes. But,” Clarke snickers, “it’s actually not bad. It’s like they’re my assholes now.”

“Ha. You win that. Anything you need?”

“Ahh. Hmm.” 

“Now I know you want something.”

“The workspace is so noisy, but I’ve got a team now, so I feel weird about using my noise cancelling headphones and cutting them off from talking to me?”

Raven laughs hard. “Is this you begging for some of my headsets?”

“You called me. And ok yes. Can you spare three to lend us? I get the feeling these guys don’t have a lot of money to throw around.”

“I’ll bring them by tomorrow, I want to get a look at these assholes of yours.”

*****

It’s not fair how Clarkes gut clenches as Raven’s eyes slide appreciatively over her boys. 

She elbows her friend. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

Raven raises her eyebrows. “Which one.”

Damnit. “Murph… John. “ She still can’t get used to calling him by his first name, despite how easily she’s transitioned to calling Bellamy by his first name. She can’t help but grin though. “The only time I see that guy smile is when he talks about her. She’s all things wonderful, apparently.”

Raven smiles. “Aww that’s sweet. But it still leaves Hottie McHotness available.” Her eyes slide over Bellamy more slowly this time.

And Clarke’s gut clenches again.

Raven sideeyes her. “I’m looking for you. I’m kinda taken, remember? He sure is pretty though. Right?”

The squeeze around Clarke’s innards relaxes. She and Raven have been there and done that, Dating the same guy at the same time unknowingly. She couldn’t bear it if they got into it over freaking Bellamy Blake. Not that Clarke wants to date him.

“So you and Wells are making it official hey? Taken you guys long enough.” Her friends have been dancing around each other for what seems like forever. And she’s just glad that they’re happy. It has nothing to do with Raven hitting on her team member.

She ignores Raven’s sly smile. “You got the goods?”

Raven rummages in her knapsack and pulls out three headsets, handing them around.

The guys eye them suspiciously.

“I’m not buying anything,” Murphy says trying to hand it back. 

Raven smirks and crosses her arms, blocking his motion. “Good, cause I’m not selling it. I made it, and it’s proprietary. You guys would be doing me a big favor by field testing them though.”

Murphy scowls at her and she scowls back. 

“What’s the criteria?” he says, when Raven wins the stare down.

“I’ll send Clarke the questions. I don’t want to bias you by telling you up front.”

“Fine,” Murphy snaps shoving it around his neck. He turns his attention back to his screen, refusing to look at Raven again.

Bellamy smirks and slides his headset around his neck too. “I assume we don’t get to keep them?”

Raven laughs. “Are you kidding me right now? I want them back the day this internship is over. Maybe I’ll let you guys buy one with the big money you’ll be making.”

And even Murphy with his determined passive face can’t hide the uptilt of his lips.

As the week goes on and the other teams start devolving into shouting matches and hate, her little group just gets it done. It’s not that Bellamy never challenges her, but it’s more of a debate than a fight. And Murphy just watches until he’s nudged to contribute, and then he speaks his snarky sarcastic mind before falling in with whatever they conclude. She’s not deaf to the whispers she hears, that the only way she got the two most annoying men here to do what she wants is by sleeping with one or both of them, but she ignores it. Soon enough all of them will be gone, and she Bellamy and Murphy will be still here.

Because after looking at the rest of the room with their egos battling it out she realizes that despite first impressions she’s got the best team in the room. And she’s determined that they’re going to prove it and win those three jobs.

Clarke makes the executive decision to give them all Sunday off. They’re ahead of the goals she’s set, and everyone is exhausted. Murphy glares at her like she just ruined his life and violently shoves his things into his raggedy backpack before stomping away.

“What’s his problem?” she mutters. She’d thought they were getting along.

“He’d rather come in,” Bellamy responds. 

Crap. Headsets and talking to yourself don’t get along.

“At least that way he gets some food and a shower.”

It takes a few seconds for that to sink in, for Clarke to understand what he means.

“He’s homeless?” she gasps.

“I dunno. I think he’s living in his car.” He says it so casually. Like that doesn’t really count as homeless. 

“Why isn’t anyone helping him? Where is his family?”

Bellamy shrugs. “We came up together, and in our neighborhood most people don’t have much to spare, you know? I mean I have my mom supporting me through this, but it’s pretty tight. We have the three of us in a one bedroom. We just don’t have room for him. And family… eh, he’s a foster kid. His dad was shot robbing a pharmacy or something when he was little. His mom drowned in a bottle.”

Suddenly that almost feral suspicion he’d had when she’d given him the headset makes much more sense.

Damnit. When she started this program she’d sworn she’d let anyone who needed it stay with her, but she’d imagined a pretty girl, someone sweet and soft to share her space with. Not… not John Murphy, someone who was angry and antagonistic and could be downright scary, although to be fair he’d never done a single thing to threaten her.

“He’s got a girlfriend though, right?” she asks desperately. “He could stay with her.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Her family, they’re… yeah. Not gonna happen.”

Damnit damnit damnit.

Clarke grabs her own bag and hustles out hoping to catch him at the elevator. No such luck, but she watches the numbers, sees it stop on level 2 of the basement garage before it comes back up. It’s a long shot, he’s bound to be gone by the time she gets down there, but still, Clarke gets in and hits the B2 button.

Her phone beeps and she pulls it out. She’s got a message on the PM app they’ve been using.

B: Whatever you’re doing it’s a bad idea

C: I can’t let him go homeless when I have space

B: he doesn’t take well to charity

B: and he sure doesn’t want you saving him

Clarke bites her lip, thinking. She hates it when people pity her. She can remember the horror of people being so cloyingly sympathetic when her dad died. He’s been through that. And then lost his mom too. And his home. She can’t imagine it. But he needs somewhere to stay. Surely there’s a way to offer him that?

C: you got anything planned for tonight?

B: are you kidding? This internship ate my social life.

C: ok, so come over to my place tonight. Bring someone. Date or friend or whatever.

She follows up with her address, so he can’t say no.

B: okay, I guess I could bring Octavia.

 

The elevator doors open and Clarke rushes out. She doesn’t even know what kind of car Murphy drives. But headlights flicker in the farthest darkest corner. Clarke chases it down.

Her steps slow as she gets closer. The car is a barely road-legal ruster. Of course it is. And he’s sitting there with his head on the steering wheel like he’s given up hope.

She taps on the window and his head pops up, his eyes wide and wild. It takes him a second before he schools his face into his usual scowl.

He rolls down the window. “You got some weekend work for me or something?”

Clarke gulps. “No, I mean... ok, I’m having some friends over tonight for pizza and a movie. You want to come? Bring your girlfriend, I mean if you guys don’t have plans or you know something…” She fades out. 

He stares incredulously.

“She, you just talk about her and she sounds really amazing.” More blank looks. “Bellamy is bringing…” she fumbles with her phone, “Octavia.” 

Murphy’s face softens. “He’s bringing Octavia? Ahh, okay. Yeah. I’ll see what Emori has going on. That, that sounds cool.”

Clarke shovels her inconvenient jealousy to one side. Because of course Murphy knows Bellamy’s girlfriend. It’s not important. Figuring out how to help Murphy is the goal here. And look at that, step one already accomplished. He’s coming to her place.

“Great! I’ll text you the info!”

 

C: you’re coming over tonight.

R: I am?? I was going clubbing with Wells.

C: Excellent. Both of you come over. I need you guys here ok?

***

It’s six people. Clarke counts it off again just to be sure. Raven, Wells, Murphy and his girlfriend Emori, and Bellamy, with his girl Octavia. Stupid name. Is she an octopus or something? 

Anyway, it’s six, seven including herself. So three pizzas should do it. 

It’s her early childhood training that has her messaging Bellamy and Murphy to ask for food allergies and preferences. A good hostess always makes sure her guests are comfortable, even if it is just pizza. And why is she so stressed about this? Somehow this thing has begun to feel overwhelmingly important.

Her apartment is tidy enough, mostly because she’s been at work so much she hasn’t had a chance to make any messes. There’s a few coffee cups to wash and a quick pass of the bathroom and the place is guest ready.

Raven and Wells show up early bless them for being such reliable friends. They’re not even wearing their clubbing clothes.

Clarke hugs both of them feeling some of her exhaustion lift. 

“What the hell, Clarke!” Raven says. She’s eyeing the table. “How many people are coming? Fifty?”

Clarke winces. “Too much?”

When she’d been ordering the pizzas it suddenly occurred to her that if Murphy had been feeding himself from the courtesy snacks at work then he had to be seriously malnourished. So she’d added a couple of salads to her order. A few different kinds of pasta. And a tiramisu. Some cannoli because that’s her favorite. And then she’d picked up sodas, and wine, and beer. She wasn’t sure what everyone liked, so she’d gotten a variety.

Raven just looked at her. “You’re either crazy or trying really hard to impress your assholes.”

Clarke sighs. “It’s an unpaid internship. Did you guys forget that?”

Wells catches on first. Which makes sense. He’s always been the one to be involved with any community outreach projects his father has going on. 

“You’re trying to feed them,” he says. 

Clarke shrugs, feeling a little awkward. She’s certain neither Bellamy or Murphy would be happy if she revealed what Bellamy had told her earlier. “Just play along, ok? Act like I always go overboard when I’m entertaining.”

Wells nods seriously. “Of course.” 

Raven just smirks. “Whatever. Bagsies choosing the movie.”

She skips over to other side of the room, plopping herself down on the couch so she can turn on the TV and skim through Netflix.

Clarke watches her, confused. “Bagsies?” 

Wells winces. “She’s been reading a lot of Harry Potter fanfic.”

“Is the Pursuit of Happyness too on the nose?” she calls over.

Clarke and Wells roll their eyes at each other. “Yes!” they chorus.

*****

Raven is still muttering to herself over genres twenty minutes later when the intercom buzzes. 

“It’s me.” Bellamy.

Clarke buzzes him in.

She opens the door to not just Bellamy and his Octavia, but Murphy and his girlfriend too. At least the initial awkwardness is going to happen all at once.

Murphy has a murderous scowl, and even exuberant confident Bellamy is subdued.

“Wow!” Octavia says, her eyes wide. “This building is really fancy. Are you rich?”

Clarke gives the girl a closer look. She looks like a kid. If she had to guess she’d peg her as high school age. Sixteen, maybe seventeen at the oldest. Especially with the big-eyed way she’s looking around. 

Murphy catches the horrified sideeye she’s giving Bellamy and starts laughing. Cynical bastard laughing. But still. He’s laughing. She’s never seen him laugh before.

“Oh my God, Clarke. Did you think they were dating?” He turns around and smacks Bellamy. “You told her you were bringing a date?”

Bellamy gapes. Looks at Clarke. Looks away. “You said I could bring a date or a friend! My sister is my friend!”

She’s so stupid. He said it was his mother supporting him, and that there were three of them. Of course he’s got a sibling.

The girl looks unsure. There’s a lot of tension and she’s a teen at an adult party. Thank God for Raven. She swaggers over and slings her arm around the girl’s neck. 

“Awesome. You and I now get to pick the movie. What sort of stuff do you like?”

She draws her away, leaving the rest of them standing around awkwardly.

So, so awkward. Like beyond awkward.

This is why you don’t invite your work friends into your real life.

Wells gives her a look. But Clarke has nothing to say.

Bellamy grins, apparently regaining some of his swagger now his sister is happily chattering to Raven. “Well ok, elephant thing. My sister is right. Clarke is rich. I mean we all knew she had money, but this place… Are you kidding me? You live here? Alone? While doing a free internship? Are you like a trust fund kid or something?”

Clarke crosses her arms defensively. She wants to say something about her family not defining her, but, she does have a trust fund. And Murphy is literally going homeless to get this job.

Wells starts laughing, breaking the tension. “Oh my God. You haven’t told them anything about yourself have you.” He smirks at Murphy. “Want to know everything about Clarke Griffin that’ll make you want hate her, and yet still be unable to?”

And Murphy snickers and rubs his hands together. “I’ll take that challenge.”

He and Wells, along with the girlfriend, who Clarke still hasn’t properly met go over to the table, and sit down, still talking. Wells gives her a quick look and then starts casually filling a plate for himself. 

Clarke tries not to watch them directly, but she mentally pumps her fists when after a few casual glances she sees Murphy and Emori filling up their own plates. Like seriously filling them up. And she really can’t help grinning when Emori slaps Murphy’s shoulder and points at the salads, and he rolls his eyes and shovels some green stuff onto his plate.

Bellamy snickers, and suddenly she realizes that he’s still here. And it’s just them. Alone. In the kitchen. 

She glares at him. “What is your problem?”

“I dunno, maybe that I don’t want to be your charity case?”  
“And yet you’re here.”

His eyes drift back towards the kitchen table. To Murphy now getting second helpings of everything. “How long do you think it’s going to take them to realize they’re sitting down for dinner with the mayor’s son?”

Something snaps in her brain.

She grabs his arm and yanks him around the corner into the entry hall. Yes her apartment is large enough to have an entry hall. 

“What do you expect from me?” she hisses. “Should I pretend I don’t have money? Should I not help him? I have this apartment that my mother pays the rent on. You guys are my team. Cage tried to sabotage us by putting us together. We have to stick together and help each other if we’re going to win this thing. And he’s not going to be doing his best work if he’s half starved and sleeping in his car!”

Bellamy smirks and tilts his head, studying her. “Oh. So it’s not so much about charity as it is the logistics of winning the positions?”

Clarke opened her mouth to protest. Of course it’s more than the job. And then thinks again. “Of course. We can’t let the likes of Cage Wallace chase us off. We need to make him regret ever teaming us up.”

He smiles and leans back against the door, and suddenly the intimacy of them being jammed together in the small space strikes her. Especially when he’s looking at her like that. The voices of her friends flow around her. Murphy is swearing about something, Raven is laughing. But here in this little dimly lit space they’re alone.

“You really do care about people,” he says.

Clarke flushes. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Surprisingly no. Or at least most people want to pretend that bad things don’t really happen, or that you deserve it somehow. That way they don’t have to feel uncomfortable or do something about it.” He shrugs casually, but his eyes dart away, and Clarke wonders what’s happened to him, what’s earned him this cynicism. Something tells her not to press. 

“Hey, wait, why would putting us all on a team together be a punishment? We work great together.”

And Clarke laughs at his honestly confused expression. 

She grabs his hand pulling him back into the kitchen to sit down at the table with the others.

“Okay guys. Funny story,” she says, grinning at Bellamy. 

He’s watching her wide eyed and almost awed, pulling her up short for a moment. And then his thumb slides across the back of her hand. She’s still holding his hand.

She drops it and turns to look if anyone has noticed. Only Raven is watching her with an amused look. Clarke was already expecting the third degree from her later, so a few more questions won’t matter.

“I’m ready to hear something funny,” says Emori, elbowing Murphy, who’s looking exceptionally scowly.

Clarke turns to him. “Can you believe Bellamy just asked me why I think that the three of us being teamed together was an attempt at sabotage?”

Murphy’s face lightens into one of his rare smiles. “You’re kidding. Right?” He looks over at Bellamy. “Oh wow. Not kidding.” and bursts into laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Octavia asks, looking around wide eyed. 

“Just that these two hated each other on sight.”

“Hey!” Clarke crosses her arms defensively. “Can you blame me? He was unbearable. The most obnoxious loud mouthed know it all in the room!”

“Well you were like a princess surveying her realm expecting us to all fall into line and do whatever you told us to.”

“And let me guess,” Emori puts in, “John was nasty to everyone and spent his time sitting in the corner like a troll.” She turns on him. “I told you to be nice!”

He shrugs. “But you didn’t expect me to actually do it.”

She sighs, as if yeah, she knew he wouldn’t.

“But what’s this guys problem with you all anyway?” Wells asks. “Surely it’s not just because you turned him down? Or is he really that petty?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “As sweet as it is that you can’t imagine anyone that petty, you really should know better.”

“It’s not just that I refused the honor of ahhh, dating him.” she cuts a look at Octavia. She’s probably well aware of exactly what Cage Wallace wanted from Clarke. But she’s still a kid. “But he’s one of those guys, you know the type, that we went to school with. The kind that didn’t have enough money or brains or charm to be on top, but who was like ugh…” She looks around at everyone again, and gives Wells a speaking look. 

If they were alone she’d feel more comfortable saying it plainly, but the combination of a big eyed kid in the room and anxiety over getting Murphy’s back up too much so he won’t accept help makes her inarticulate.

“Oh!” Bellamy says. “A statusbro!”

Murphy nods in understanding, but the rest of them look blank.

Wells mouth tilts in amusement. “Is that what they’re called? Clever.”

“That’s what Blake calls em. I dunno if it’s in like general circulation.”

“What’s a statusbro?” Raven asks.

“You know those guys who don’t have anything really going for them, except some money, not like serious money, but enough to get them in the door? And then they spend all their time trying to keep the less worthy down, and sucking up to people they think can increase their status.”

“Ahh! So like 50% of my program then. No wonder they all hate me.”

“And they think you’re winning at the game. Because you’re with Wells,” Clarke says. She’s had plenty of statusbros after her for pretty much that reason.

“Wells is the prize?” Raven elbows him. “I better flaunt you more then.”

“I dunno why I got dragged into this,” Murphy says. “Sure the bros always go after Blake. And you, you’re a target too. But what did I do?”

Emori pats his arm. “For some reason most people just hate you.”

****

The whole evening went surprisingly well after that. Raven couldn’t resist queueing up The Pursuit of Happyness which was soundly booed down as way too depressing. 

They ended up watching Guardians of the Galaxy (Octavias choice) and yet at the end of the night food was packaged up and everyone was leaving with big packages of it, and Clarke felt guilty because Murphy had no where to go. 

Impulsively she pulls Bellamy and Murphy aside. “I know we decided to take the day off tomorrow, but would you guys mind meeting me here tomorrow, so we can talk strategy in private? I really don’t want to give Cage a chance to get any sort of extra information on us.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Bellamy says. “I’ve got some ideas.”

Murphy shrugs like it doesn’t matter either way to him.

“Good.” Clarke says, feeling more in control. “Come by around 11. I’ll make pancakes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been getting some requests to finish a fic I started a few years ago called Bank Robber #1.
> 
> Unfortunately I don't really even remember what I was doing or planning on. And I'm gonna be proud of myself and say I've grown a lot as a writer in the intervening years. Nowadays my main focus is on my original writing.
> 
> But I feel bad about the people who loved that little fic. I remembered that I posted a drabble on Tumblr about bellarke as interns.
> 
> I meant to just tidy it up and post as a sort of apology. And here I am 5k later and only half done!
> 
> It's a bit of a characterization flashback because it's from a few years back, but I hope you enjoy!


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